Lies of Autumn
As the leaves fall yellowing like aged paper,
Thoughts turn acrid and curl
Like cigarette smoke rising from a butt ground out on my arm.
Step into this decay and experience dissolution.
Crucified on a plank of cruelty,
Crucified on a plank of apathy to sleep the winter away.
Immobile for the cold duration.
Huddled in isolation, to sleep the winter away.
Writer/s: ABE SPEAR, CHRIS ADLER, DAVID RANDALL BLYTHE, JOHN CAMPBELL, MARK MORTON
